


calling you mine

by strictlybecca



Series: 12 or so bones [1]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, New York Mets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 06:34:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10530903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strictlybecca/pseuds/strictlybecca
Summary: “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure it was something heroic done in a suitably heroic fashion, yada yada – that’s not my concern newb-long tea. My concern is the envelope on your desk that you have sailed by in those ugly combat boots for the past hour and a half.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> i got a little drunk and a little hangry when i discovered that garcia/alvez barely merited four fics on this hellspawn of a website - so here we are, a little while later on a sunday that should have been productive in very different ways. let's see if i can contribute to increasing this number because penelope garcia is hot as fuck and men should want to be her boyfriend all the time.

“You’re not very good at your job, are you?” The voice on the other end of the line shouldn’t have been a surprise at this point – Luke should have been used to Garcia’s foxtrot syllables, skimming and skipping, dipping and diving over the information delivered staccato style from hundreds of miles away, considering how often he heard them. 

He was still inside the BAU office at this point though and so he felt he was still well within his rights to a moment of hesitation at identifying Penelope Garcia at the other end of the call. They didn’t exactly chat with each other beyond cases – though they’d shared a few bantering texts that he’d been hopeful meant that she was warming up to him.

“-I like to think I’m doing alright,” he said, instead of the instinctual _who have you been listening to_ or _has the team said anything_ that both raced to jump out of his mouth first. He was not – well, not _happy_ with being the newbie right now, but he could always rely on Garcia to remind hi-

“ _We-ell_ newbie,” she said, each syllable plump with her thrilled, smug tone, “I don’t know if I’d agree, considering you’re missing some pretty blatant clues right in front of your slightly crooked nose.”

“Hey, I came by this crooked nose honestly,” Luke found himself saying, without any input from his brain’s centers of higher order thinking, “-taking down an unsub in-”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure it was something heroic done in a suitably heroic fashion, yada yada – that’s not my concern newb-long tea. My concern is the envelope on your desk that you have sailed by in those ugly combat boots for the past hour and a half.”

The instinct to defend his combat boots was a struggle to fight down, but Luke managed eventually before his eyes flicked towards the pile of papers with legs that he _supposed_ to the untrained eye might appear like a desk. He tended to think of it more as a flat surface upon which to collect things that he did not want to look at or engage with, but he was also new to this BAU schtick so maybe he was doing it wrong. 

Judging by the tidiness of everyone else’s work station, that was probably a fair guess.

“Yeah, that hellpile that I very reluctantly refer to as a desk, that’s what I’m talking about.” Luke forced himself not to look around for wherever Garcia was spying on him from and instead took a few steps closer to his desk, phone still pressed to his ear. “You’re getting warmer, newbie, warmer – warmer still…” Luke paused right in front of his desk and wondered for a moment if he was losing his touch. Right there, smack in the middle of the tallest pile of papers, the one settled right on top of his keyboard, was an envelope in a bright blue color.

It was one of those colors that didn’t seem likely to occur in nature, but here it was – a near painful punch of color in a black and white world of bureaucracy and paperwork. He didn’t try to pursue the parallel inherent there: Penelope as the splash of color, his own world as the greyscale universe – that seemed way more like a Reid sort of thought and so he left it be and opened the envelope.

“Were you one of those kids who folded wrapping paper on Christmas?” Garcia’s voice asked, sounding aggravated, but maybe – perhaps? – a little fond. “Open the damn thing, newbie, before I take it back.” Luke teased her a little, wherever she was watching him from, by doubling down on his painfully piecemeal opening on the envelope before he realized he couldn’t stand the torture himself.

“These are Nationals tickets,” Luke said slowly, recognizing the baseball team’s logo almost immediately. Penelope’s voice went suddenly terse.

“Reading comprehension, Pippi Newbstocking! Goodness gracious, your features may be finely hewn but they’re utterly wasted on your empty head – who are the Nationals _playing_?”

“Wait - you got me Mets tickets,” Luke said, a grin spreading across his lips. “Not only that… you got me Mets tickets to a game where the Mets are probably gonna win. Garcia-”

“That’s certainly one interpretation,” Penelope interrupted and Luke raised an eyebrow, knowing that wherever Penelope was spying on him from she would be able to see it. “An alternative interpretation is that I got _us_ Mets tickets.”

Luke wasn’t sure what his expression did, but by the sound of Penelope’s laughter, it was doing the right thing. “I assume that’s something you’re amenable to, _Luke_.”

“Yeah, _Penelope_ ,” Luke murmured, his eyes on the tickets now, trying to bite back on whatever embarrassing smile was trying to escape. “I’d be pretty into that.” Needless to say. He was _painfully_ into that idea, to a degree that he’d have to remind himself to be embarrassed about later, but as of right now he was just thrilled it was happening. He cast around for something less humiliating to say than _thank you_. “How’d you know I liked the Mets anyway? A Bronx kid, it’d be easy to assume Yankees.”

“Oh _newbie_ ,” Garcia breathed silkily, and Luke couldn’t help but huff a laugh, dropping down into his desk chair to let his head loll back as he enjoyed the sound. The nickname felt more affectionate than it ever had before and all he could think was _she bought me Mets tickets_. His brothers were gonna _love_ her. “Remember: I am _anything_ but easy – and I know **everything**.”

“I won’t forget,” Luke promised, twitching the envelope with the tickets in his left hand.

“Good,” Penelope’s voice was all warmth and mischief. “Now, get off that cute butt and get over to the briefing room, we’ve got a case.”

**Author's Note:**

> encouragement courtesy of jessie, who also suggested _10am gare du nord_ by **keaton henson** which is where the title of this fic comes from: _"damnit, i'm calling you mine."_
> 
> the goal is for this to be part of a series of unrelated garcia/alvez fics until i am more satisfied with the number of fics this couple has. whether or not i will manage to pursue this project effectively - who knows. but that's the goal.
> 
> let me know if you liked it! hit me up on tumblr (@strictlybecca) or more effectively on twitter (@thebeccaroo) if you have prompts or ideas for future fics for these two.


End file.
